


conflict

by CapnShellhead



Series: calculated promises [3]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 19:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13864560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnShellhead/pseuds/CapnShellhead
Summary: T'Challa is having difficulty splitting his time between M'Baku and his kingdom. He doesn't handle it very well.





	conflict

**Author's Note:**

> More M'Baku/T'Challa. This turned out to be a lot longer than I intended because I just had to explore how T'Challa's family would react. 
> 
> Drop me a line! Let me know what you think!
> 
> The wonderful Dahlg has drawn some beautifully sweet art for one of the scenes in this story. Please check it out!!  
> https://twitter.com/Dahlgart/status/970739502757982208

“I just can’t get it,” M’Baku admits resignedly and T’Challa laughs, laying back, his legs spread across M’Baku’s shoulders. They were tangled up on a mat in T’Challa’s training room. Once again, he had tried and failed to teach M’Baku his winning move from the challenge fight. M’Baku had strength and size on his side but T’Challa was much more flexible. A skill M’Baku was appreciating right now, it seemed. 

“That’s alright,” T’Challa murmurs as M’Baku grips his thighs and places a soft kiss to the inside of T’Challa’s knee. “You have other talents.” M’Baku laughs and sucks a mark into the inside of T’Challa’s thigh. He noses into T’Challa’s groin and stretches out on his stomach, content to spend some time here. 

He pulls up only once, his breath warm on T’Challa’s bulge. “Your guard?”

“We will not be disturbed for another hour or so,” T’Challa’s answers. “But they will come if we make too much noise,” he adds hastily.

M’Baku grins, lowering his eyes again. “Then I suggest you do your best to keep quiet,” he murmurs and takes T’Challa into his mouth.

X

It wasn’t all sex.

T’Challa tells himself that sometimes when he’s lying awake and staring wondrously at the large bicep weighing him down. M’Baku slept like T’Challa was part of the mattress. Never in the king’s chambers;they couldn’t risk it, but in a pavilion T’Challa had secured in the city. M’Baku never asked but T’Challa had caught him watching him curiously from time to time. 

It wasn’t all sex but T’Challa knew very well what it would look like to his people. They had already disapproved of the Jabari coming down from the mountains. The Jabari didn’t dress the way the others did and they carried themselves differently. It made for an interesting few days, particularly when T’Challa invited them to events in the city. It was the first time such a thing had been attempted in centuries and, as proud as T’Challa was, his work was not finished. It wasn’t enough to bring the Jabari here; he had to form a bond with them. The Wakandans had to stop behaving as two peoples and behave as one tribe.

T’Challa didn’t quite know how to do that. 

“All of your thinking is keeping me awake,” a groggy voice whispers, rough despite the warmth seeping into T’Challa’s bones.

“It may be a strange concept for you but my brain does not shut off simply because I shut my eyelids,” T’Challa explains, smiling into the dark when M’Baku swats his thigh. He turns to lay a kiss on M’Baku’s ear. “I am sorry. Go back to sleep.”

“Why? You will continue to contemplate the meaning of life and I will wake up hours later anyway. You need to stop thinking. I thought I wore you out,” he murmurs. An eye opens, taking in T’Challa’s face. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” T’Challa tries but M’Baku glares at him. 

“What is it, oh?” he asks, his voice clipped. T’Challa hesitates and M’Baku starts to get up. Sighing, T’Challa pets his broad shoulder placatingly and explains.

“I am worried that everything I’m doing will not be enough,” he says quietly. M’Baku stares at him, blinking sleepily as he continues. “I cannot change everyone’s ways of thinking, their loyalties, their priorities. I cannot undo centuries of separation overnight. I know that but… I am beginning to wonder if I’m making a difference at all.”

M’Baku stares at him, a disbelieving look in his eye. “Are you done?”

T’Challa huffs out a breath, treating M’Baku with a glare of his own. “You asked.”

“I did not think you would be so whiny.” T’Challa makes to roll over but M’Baku weighs him down. He shifts up on his elbows and stares down at T’Challa, his hand palming T’Challa’s cheek. “You are a leader, tiny king. All leaders feel the way you do.”

“Even you?” T’Challa asks doubtful and M’Baku shrugs.

“No, not me but most do,” he says, grinning at T’Challa’s laugh. His eyes are soft, adoring although T’Challa could see how tired he was and he wondered if M’Baku would remember this conversation later. “You are doing everything you can. You have already made a difference for my people. Whatever plans you have cooking up in that head of yours can wait until the morning. Now, go to sleep. You are keeping me awake.” 

“M’Baku,” he starts but M’Baku settles on top of him pointedly. T’Challa attempts to shift but M’Baku refuses to budge. “You cannot solve every problem this way,” T’Challa whines but, somehow, M’Baku gets heavier.

“Watch me.”

X

T’Challa finds M’Baku pacing in the halls, the lines of his tunic drawing T’Challa’s covetous attention for a brief moment before he forces himself to focus. He hears Okoye step lightly beside him and he sighs. “Can you give us a moment, Okoye?” he asks, watching her eyes cut to M’Baku in consideration before she nods and leaves the way they came.

M’Baku stops pacing, uncharacteristically nervous as he looks to T’Challa and then down the hall. T’Challa sighs and gestures to the empty council room. He watches M’Baku enter and closes and locks the door behind them. He turns to see M’Baku standing in the center of the room, his arms crossed in defiance. T’Challa takes one step closer and M’Baku bristles.

“Before you start, I was merely trying to preserve your honor.”

“My honor was not threatened. It is my reputation you have sullied,” T’Challa says quietly. M’Baku’s mouth snaps shut and he shakes his head, looking to the empty room. “You may not like Ross but he is our way into helping our people in America.”

“You do not need him-“ M’Baku began but T’Challa held up a hand.

“The Americans do not trust us. Aside from the reveal that we are not a third world country, they do not trust people that look like us. You want to ruin the one working relationship we have?”

“Why are you bending over backwards for that man? He is spineless.”

“He is harmless.” T’Challa moves in closer, his brow furrowed. “M’Baku, I do not need Ross but he is helpful in this regard. This is important to me. I trust you understand that?”

M’Baku is quiet, his eyes on T’Challa’s before they cut away. When he speaks, his voice is low, “In my home, you show respect to your leader. You do not interrupt or speak over him, even to offer assistance. It is disrespectful.”

T’Challa studies him, the stiffness of his shoulders and the defiant cut of his jaw. And he understood. His mind raced, wondering how he’d gotten the situation so wrong. “Your way of life is not much different from my own. Okoye was ready to spear him by the second course,” he adds with a smile. M’Baku lightens a bit, not enough for T’Challa’s liking. 

“I don’t like him,” M’Baku says plainly and T’Challa bites down a smile.

“Noted.” He has to say it, “You afford me the same respect afforded to leaders of the Jabari.” M’Baku straightens, facing T’Challa head on.

“It is customary when one is…” he trails off, clearly uncomfortable. He pulls at his tunic and lowers his eyes. “You would be treated with such respect in my home because you are mine. I assumed it would be the same here. I will not do it again.”

T’Challa stared at him in disbelief, almost waiting for M’Baku to take the words back or to clarify that T’Challa had misinterpreted. Had M’Baku confided in his people that T’Challa was… that he and M’Baku had… it was unthinkable.

“I do not believe you’ll have the opportunity,” T’Challa says after some time. “I do not think Agent Ross will be returning anytime soon.” 

After two men toss you from the palace on their leader’s orders, one tended to get the feeling they weren’t welcome. 

“You are not angry,” M’Baku said hesitantly and T’Challa sighs, moving closer to uncross M’Baku’s arms. The taller man steals a kiss, heading off T’Challa’s words.

T’Challa shakes his head at the nerve but returns the kiss, stealing one of his own. “I am not angry, no. You may have prevented Okoye from doing worse. She thanks you, in her own way.”

“Which is?” M’Baku asks, almost fearful. T’Challa’s hand slide down M’Baku’s chest.

“We have been left alone in an empty room.” He keeps his voice light, “They must presume I am reprimanding you.” 

M’Baku smirked, taking T’Challa’s hands and sliding them lower. “Oh? And am I taking it well?”

“Not quite,” T’Challa responds, reaching for the hem of M’Baku’s tunic. “You had a lot to say.”

X

“They missed you, brother,” Shuri says cheerfully, the hologram dropping out as she turns to speak to someone and then returns to T’Challa. “Of course, I am better company.”

“Oh quiet, you,” T’Challa says, covering a smile. He covers up more with the blanket, having gotten the call unexpectedly. “I’m glad you are enjoying yourself, Shuri.”

“I bet you are. Tell me, why couldn’t you come again?” she asked knowingly and T’Challa hated how well she knew him sometimes. As far as he knew, the only person unaware of his relationship with M’Baku was Ramonda. He’d never thought it pertinent enough to mention when they had first started out; it being such a small part of his life but now… well, to tell her would make it serious and it wasn’t. Was it?

“I had a meeting,” he replies firmly and earns a knowing grin.

“I’m sure you did,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know that the event went well. We are funding STEM programs across the US and that man you worked with last year donated a lot of his own technology. Rather primitive for my taste but apparently it is advanced to them.”

That brought a smile to T’Challa’s face. “Be nice to him. After what happened with Ross, we could use all the friends we have.”

“Have you met me, brother?” she asked teasingly. “I have to go. Big day tomorrow doing all this press on my own. Whatever shall I do going from fancy hotel to fancy hotel. Eating free meals at 5 star restaurants and being dragged to concerts for entertainment. Such a punishment.”

“Have fun,” T’Challa says and the call ends. M’Baku shuffles in naked, the stretch of bare, dark skin making T’Challa’s stomach tighten with hunger. M’Baku hands him a cup of fruit, rather unconcerned about his nakedness. Then again, they were in his quarters so why should he be? 

“Was that the tiny princess?” he asked, popping a few berries into his mouth. He curls over T’Challa’s chest and T’Challa wonders how he’d ever feared M’Baku. A man that cuddled this much should not be intimidating. 

“Yes and you should be nicer to her,” T’Challa chides.

“I have apologized,” he says quietly, reaching for the cup when T’Challa steals it away.

“You have?”

“I have,” M’Baku says quietly. “I thought it nice to offer an olive branch. I offered to help her test one of her weapons.”

T’Challa groaned inwardly, “And?”

“It shot me across the room. Nearly through a window,” he explained, glaring at T’Challa softly when he laughed. “She is formidable, that one. I will give her that.”

“Recorded?” T’Challa asked and M’Baku nods, resting his head on T’Challa’s chest. He reaches for the cup of fruit again but T’Challa snatches them away. 

“You are both so mean to me,” he says and T’Challa pets his cheek mockingly.

“You poor thing,” he replies. He lets M’Baku take the cup and rests his head against the pillows. When had he started to feel comfortable here? He must’ve been here ten, eleven times? When had he found the time? M’Baku’s men knew him well and he’d started to greet them by name. 

“M’Baku…” he began hesitantly, freezing when M’Baku looked to him. “Your people know what we are,” he finishes quietly. 

“Yes,” he answers plainly. “What of it?”

“They don’t care?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “What would it matter if they did? We are not like you; we do not place so much emphasis on children and bloodlines.”

“What do you value, then? If not passing on your titles to your children.”

“Strength and power.” He shrugs, continuing to eat and it was a nice gesture handing the cup to T’Challa when he planned to eat it all himself. “You find someone who will help lead your people into the future… and someone who respects the past.”

“So… what do they think of me?” he asks quietly and M’Baku takes his time in answering. 

“I don’t make a point of asking my men what they think of my decisions. From what I can gather, they think you are strong. You defeated me in combat so they respect you. This,” he drops a kiss to T’Challa’s chest. “This changes nothing. If anything, they feel sorry for you.” 

“Why?” T’Challa asks.

“I snore.”

X

 

T’Challa’s hands slipped on the silk sheets beneath him as he stretched out on his knees and lost himself in M’Baku’s arms. M’Baku hefted him back easily, his breath hot on the back of T’Challa’s neck as he snapped his hips forward, his balls slapping against T’Challa’s ass. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been doing this but he only had a few hours before he was needed in the council. So, of course M’Baku had taken advantage of that. 

His head lowers, groaning low in his throat as M’Baku pumped him full, letting his arms go weak as M’Baku pounded that spot inside of him. He cries out, giving himself over to M’Baku as his cock jerked against his stomach. M’Baku picks up the pace, working his hips relentlessly as T’Challa’s vision whites out and he spills over the sheets below them.

M’Baku grunts, whispering too low for T’Challa to hear as he grips his hips tighter and pushes in deep. He grinds his hips, holding T’Challa close as he pumps his hips a few times and fills T’Challa messily. T’Challa sighs, petting M’Baku’s forearms as they settle on their sides. M’Baku wraps his arms around him again, the heat sweltering but it’s somehow comforting.

“You are tired, tiny king,” M’Baku murmurs.

“I’m busy,” T’Challa responds. 

M’Baku’s hand trails over his side, above his ribs. “What is this?” he asks, his finger pads lightly tracing a purpling bruise.

“Nothing,” T’Challa answers dismissively. If they played their cards right, they could fit in a quick nap before their meeting. He would be disheveled, no time to grab a change of clothes but it was worth it to be well rested, he thought. “Gun runners.”

“Gun runners?” M’Baku asked, curious. “Your suit is bulletproof, is it not?”

“It is but these are not typical guns.” He closes his eyes, already drifting off. “Alien technology. My suit protected from most of it. Don’t worry, it’ll heal in no time.”

M’Baku hums in response, his hands trailing over T’Challa’s skin. He kisses T’Challa’s shoulder and listens to his breathing even out.

They’re late for the meeting, to T’Challa’s disappointment. M’Baku refused to wake him.

X

T’Challa looks out across his kingdom. From this vantage point, he can see all of Wakanda... well, most of it. He hears the quietest footsteps behind him. “The mountains shield so much from my eyes,” he murmurs, his arms crossed. “They are beautiful but these boundaries will remain no matter how many bridges we build.”

“Forgive me for what I am about to say but you have been distracted, my king,” Okoye says rather bluntly. T’Challa smiles and turns, his eyes soft. 

“Never ask forgiveness for honesty. What are your concerns?”

She stiffens her shoulders and continues, “You have been preoccupied with... other things. It has blinded you to the realities of what’s going on amongst your people.”

“Other things,” T’Challa repeated lightly. 

Okoye pauses and then said, “This alliance with the Jabari was necessary. I believe that. Were it not, I would have come to you sooner but the other things... the meetings, I fear they will only cloud your head.”

T’Challa’s skin warms as he lowers his head, calming his mind, “Do not soften your blows, Okoye. Strike honestly.”

“We know what goes on behind closed doors. You are not subtle and we are not deaf. Nor are we blind to your clothing and his possession of you.” At T’Challa’s frown, she continues, “He does not behave as a council member should. He doesn’t address you with honorifics or titles, he touches you without permission, he makes jokes at your expense at inappropriate times. He behaves as one’s... lover would.”

T’Challa stares at her, then, “Okoye-“

“That is not the sole reason I am here, my king. You have been distracted and not just with the Jabari. Your work in America and The United Kingdom, while kind, has distracted from the resurgence of rebellion in your kingdom. Killmonger has left some members rather disenfranchised and unsure about your loyalties to your own people.”

Erik’s words in T’Challa’s ears, “They originated on this continent. Under different circumstances, we could have shared their fate.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me-“

“It seems I do, Okoye.” He feels the frustration get the best of him and forces himself to calm. “Tell me, why exactly did you come to me? What is it you would ask of me?”

Okoye pauses, studying him closely. “You need to stay here. Just for a few months-“

“I have a job to do-“

“Do it from here. Send the Dora and your seconds in your stead.”

“Okoye, I am the face of this-“

“You are the face of this nation,” she replies calmly. “Stay... just for a few months. No more journeys.”

“No more distractions?”

X

It was rather childish of him, he’ll admit, but when T’Challa hears the rocks outside his window, sizzling as they dissolved into Shuri’s force field, he got excited. He turned the force field off for a moment, just long enough to allow the great ape of a man to climb over the balcony and come through his doors. 

M’Baku shakes himself a little and moves past T’Challa to sit on his bed. His legs spread, as though he’d claimed this too. It was his first time here and T’Challa wondered what he must be thinking. It was lavish, covered in black and purple silks, plush pillows and lush carpeting. 

“I don’t know how you got here but-“

“Have you finished with me, tiny king?” M’Baku asked bluntly. T’Challa is taken aback, caught in M’Baku’s stern gaze. He didn’t appear angry or upset, his face was incredibly blank. 

“I - what gave you that idea?”

“I don’t hear from you, you don’t send for me, you don’t return my calls.”

“You called?” he asked and M’Baku’s lip quirks. 

“I left message or two. I am not desperate,” he clarifies and T’Challa hides a smile in his hand. 

“I’ve been busy.”

“You’re always busy.”

“I mean it... I’ve ... received word that I was needed here.” He moves in closer, unsure how he felt powerless in his own room. M’Baku stares at him, unimpressed and T’Challa bristles. “I did not mean to make you feel that I was pushing you aside. It was not my intention.”

“So much technology and yet you could not manage to get a message to me.” He lowers his head, “It was a mistake coming here. I will leave. I thought this more than a brief dalliance for you.”

“M’Baku-“

“This will not affect my place on the council. Do not worry,” he adds quickly and T’Challa watches him stand, his heart pounding. His mind raced, several broken sentences on the tip of his tongue. He wanted M’Baku to stay; he wanted him to go. Things were easier, _clearer_ without him. He could focus on his work as the Black Panther and as king without losing hours sneaking out to the pavillion or coming up with excuses to go out to the mountains. He’d lost the uncomfortable feeling that came with lying to the Dora Milaje about his whereabouts.

But he’d lost the few moments of respite. The moments he’d only been able to find in M’Baku’s arms. This kingdom was a tremendous responsibility and, as the old adage went, heavy was the head that wore that the crown. He’d known that before he took this on but he hadn’t expected to feel so lost, so unsure of himself and his work. There had been days when his time with M’Baku was the only thing he looked forward to. It kept him calm; it kept him kind. It kept him from feeling completely overwhelmed. 

T’Challa needed M’Baku.

M’Baku reaches the doors and T’Challa finds command from somewhere deep inside of him, “Stop,” he orders, his voice firm. “You do not walk away from your king.”

M’Baku scoffs, turning with rage in his eyes. “My king? _My_ king? You are not mine. You made that perfectly clear. I come running when you call. I meet with you on your terms; on your soil more than my own. You are yours and you are Wakanda’s. You were never mine.”

T’Challa stares, agape. “Did you not declare me your prize that day in your throne room? If everything is on my terms, as you say it is, it is only because you allowed it.” He stalked closer, anger brewing within. But not so much anger at M’Baku; it was anger at this situation he had found himself in. “I don’t make a move without considering every possible outcome and this - whatever this is between us has a high possibility of ruining everything important to me.” He pleads with M’Baku for understanding and for a brief moment, he thinks M’Baku understands.

Then M’Baku’s eyes widen in pain before the anger returned. “Everything important to you… I understand. Consider it finished, your highness.”

He leaves the doors wide open, a small inconvenience for T’Challa and it almost makes him smile. 

Almost. 

X

Ramonda waits.

She gives T’Challa ample opportunity to fix things before she confronts him over breakfast one morning. He’s sipping his tea quietly and thinking over his schedule when she touches his wrist, a shrewd look in her eye. “You have done a tremendous job in your time as king.”

T’Challa smiles weakly, “I was briefly king and then I nearly died. I’d say I could be doing better, mother.”

She smiles, “Don’t get smart with me.” She chooses her words carefully, so unlike T’Challa in that regard. “You are a great king but you are unhappy.”

T’Challa froze, the bluntness of her words leaving him speechless. She continued, “For a while there, you were happy. I noticed; you made a few mistakes, missed a few meetings but you were happy. Your people noticed that. While some wondered about the cause of your joy, many were pleased to see it. Wakanda has been plagued with grief and tragedy since your father… since your father’s passing. Wakanda needs her king to spread hope.”

T’Challa lowered his head, “And you do not think me capable of doing that as I am?”

“I do not think you prioritize that over being… _efficient_ ,” Ramonda finished. She sipped her tea, her eyes low as she finished, “I had my suspicions about what was causing your cheerfulness. You were clearly lovestruck and Nakia had gone. Of course I worried.”

“I do not know what to say,” T’Challa responded honestly and she looked up at him, her eyes open and honest. She set her tea down and reached out for his hand. 

“If you have closed yourself off out of fear of my response, don’t. I would rather you happy. Whatever the cause.” Her voice was soft, her mouth set as she stared at him, waiting. T’Challa’s heart warmed, squeezing her hand in response. 

His voice was rough when he responded, “It does not matter. He,” he swallowed, his heart pounding as he spoke the words out loud. “He has ended things with me. Or I ended them. There is too much distance between us.”

“If only there was some way to bridge that gap,” Ramonda said wryly, a brow raised. “I know you to be smarter than this, T’Challa.”

X

It takes days. Days of outreach within the kingdom, events, balls, concerts. Days for him to put Ramonda’s words into action and then it was weeks before he could do anything about it. It was easier knowing he was actively doing something to fix things but still, his mind was filled with thoughts of M’Baku. 

He takes his plane to the mountains and lets himself be brought in by the Jabari. He is brought before M’Baku’s throne, his heart pounding. He’s anxious; he’d never been more unsure in his life. 

M’Baku looks at him with a stern frown, watching as T’Challa’s helmet fell away. M’Baku sends his men away and sits down, his face blank. “It was foolish for you to come here.”

“You going to feed me to your children?” T’Challa asks and weeks ago, M’Baku would have laughed. Now he stares and T’Challa sighs, standing and moving in closer, his arms outstretched. This wasn’t going to work unless he was completely honest and open with M’Baku.

He lets the suit fall away further, revealing his chest. M’Baku shifts, his breathing changing minutely, just enough for T’Challa to hear. “I am... sorry, M’Baku.”

M’Baku waves him off dismissively. “What for? You told me what I came to hear. Who am I to begrudge you for telling the truth?”

“It was not the truth.” M’Baku’s eyes widen, curious. “You cannot conquer a marriage.”

M’Baku frowns, his head cocked to the side in wonder. “What are you talking about?”

“You claimed me, you continued to see me, you made a point of treating me like a possession.” T’Challa moves in, lowering the suit a few inches to reveal the top of his waist. “I was yours because you decided it. Then it was brought to my attention that you did not understand how to treat a king with proper respect.”

M’Baku stiffened, fighting to focus on T’Challa’s face as his suit continued to lower. T’Challa slid a leg over his thighs and sat down, reminding him of that first time. “You do not treat me like a king, M’Baku. You treat me like a lover.” 

M’Baku reaches up, hesitating briefly before he lays his broad palm lands on T’Challa’s chest. “Is that so?” he asks, he sliding his hand up to cover T’Challa’s heart.

“Just so,” T’Challa answered, his voice low. “This land is hidden by the mountains. Out of sight, I cannot see you but I think of you, often. It may not appear that way to you but it was very apparent to my people.”

M’Baku scoffs, softening the affront as his hands stroke T’Challa’s waist. So close, he was already maneuvering T’Challa into a better position in his lap. “You’ve come all this way to tell me I overreacted?”

T’Challa laughs softly, letting M’Baku shift him around. It was a relief to give himself over to M’Baku once more. “You are rather dramatic but no,” he answers. Leaning in, he breathes in M’Baku’s scent, the smell of snow and the berries only found in this region of Wakanda. His lips brush the shell of M’Baku’s ear, making him shiver. “I would knock down mountains if I could but it is not possible and I know how you love them. So, a compromise: I will build a train that connects us so that you may visit here when you are needed.”

He waits, nuzzling in behind M’Baku’s ear. He lays a line of kisses down M’Baku’s throat, hearing him groan and move with it until he takes in T’Challa’s words. “Visit? I am leader of the Jabari, I must be-“

“Where your people need you?” T’Challa asked, leaning back. “You see how difficult that can be?”

M’Baku frowns at him, “What are you saying, tiny king?”

“You cannot conquer a marriage, M’Baku. Things are not as simple as you coming there or me coming here. We cannot force the outside world to bend to our whims no more than I can move mountains. You stay with me, you give up your people. I stay with you, I give up my people. We cannot win. Something must give.”

M’Baku thinks for a moment, his eyes soft. “Some things, I am not willing to give,” he said quietly, stroking T’Challa’s hip. He reached up and took T’Challa’s chin, pulling him in for a kiss. Having spent so much time apart, T’Challa isn’t ashamed of the way he opens for M’Baku immediately, hungrily taking his tongue. M’Baku pulls back, sighing quietly, “But I may be willing to share.”

“I thought you might say that,” T’Challa whispers. “A train.” 

“A train,” M’Baku repeats, pulling T’Challa tighter against him. “For now,” M’Baku adds. He tips T’Challa’s chin up, leaning in to nip at his throat. “I will not share forever, tiny king.” T’Challa nods with a low groan, pulling M’Baku’s chestplate off as the rest of his armor falls away.


End file.
